


I'm Not Fred Flintstone, But I Can Make Your Bed Rock

by NeoVenus22



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content, Stargate Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-11
Updated: 2010-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoVenus22/pseuds/NeoVenus22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vala does not do well in a car.  Fortunately for John, she's always looking for ways to make the trip more interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not Fred Flintstone, But I Can Make Your Bed Rock

After three hours wasting gas on a back road periodically dotted by crumbling houses, and nary a car driving in either direction, Vala came to an unavoidable conclusion.

"We're lost."

"We're not lost," said John stoutly, the maxim he'd been clinging to for every minute of those three hours.

"We're miles from civilization. When was the last time you saw anything resembling a Denny's or a Waffle House?"

"Just because you can't get a waffle at the drop of a hat doesn't mean we're miles from civilization," said John. "Look, there's a house there." He pointed at a decrepit shack dotting a hillside several yards away.

"It looks haunted," said Vala. "Maybe we should go look."

"Now you're just being ridiculous," said John, but he smiled a little bit. Vala did tend to use the 'are we there yet?' method of being a passenger, but he'd still pick her as a traveling companion over most if not all others. She was exceedingly entertaining, in her own distinctly Vala way.

"Pull over."

"Vala, it's not haunted--"

"Just pull over," she said insistently. "Trust me."

John pulled to the side of the road, threw the car into park, and stared at her, waiting. Outside his open window, there was the stale air of dead silence. "Happy?"

"About to be," Vala said, with her usual satisfied-cat smile that meant something either very good or very bad was about to happen. Then she put her hand in his lap and yanked down his zipper.

"Vala--" he tried again, but then stopped himself when he realized there was nothing really to say. His dick was pretty much doing the talking for him, much to his chagrin. It was to be expected, he guessed, given that he'd been in the car for three hours and was bored stiff (not that kind of stiff, although it was about to be). Plus, Vala was very handsy, and very good at being very handsy.

_Very_ good.

"I thought you wanted to see the house," he said weakly.

"It's abandoned and there's probably nothing to steal. Oh, good. Now we're ready to play," she declared happily, taking away her nice warm hand and leaving him jutting through the flap in his boxers.

"Just what are you doing?" he asked.

"You just sit still, John," she said, waggling her eyebrows and giving him a toothy grin. "I have a _plan_."

"A plan," he echoed dumbly, but sat still as she asked, even when she yanked his pants and his boxers down to mid-thigh. The elastic of his boxers scraped over his dick, but it sprung back up resiliently, wondering why it'd bothered to show up if nothing was going to happen. The vinyl of the car seat stuck to his bare ass.

Vala swooped in, giving him a deep, wet kiss as reward for his patience, but which actually seemed like more of a punishment as a breeze hit his dick and anticipation of the unknown made him squirm. Vala fell back into her seat and wriggled around for a moment, sliding her skintight pants down her body, before she finally swung one bare leg over his body with boneless grace, as though they weren't trapped in the cab of a miniature rental car, and settled herself on his lap. John remembered she'd told him once about living as a thief and con artist, and while she hadn't gone into detail, she had made mention of the "many feats of flexibility one has to employ in that career". John found himself immeasurably grateful for her training, particularly when she lowered herself onto him, inch by inch, like some Cirque Du Soleil performer.

When her hips finally met his, she leaned forward and licked his lips open for another deep kiss. One he admitted to being much more into. "Hello," she said, breaking away with a mischievous grin.

"Nng, you're so wet," he groaned, which wasn't exactly the height of his conversational prowess, but it was hard to focus on anything else but the impossibly smooth slide as she started to ride him slowly. She braced her hands on his shoulders and her knees dug into his waist, and he wondered just what physical requirements had been asked of her in her old job, because she had the lower body control of a seasoned lap dancer.

"I've been thinking dirty thoughts," she explained, raking her nails up the back of his neck.

"And yet you say you're bored," he said. He released himself from her grip to tug the flimsy tank top up over her head. No panties before, and no bra now. "Do you even own underwear?"

"Are you complaining?"

John palmed her breasts. "Never."

His belt was digging into the back of his thighs, pressed into his flesh courtesy of the weight of the woman on top of him, but the woman on top of him was bouncing, moaning into his mouth, and stretching his shirt all out of shape as she fisted it in ecstasy.

John wedged his hand between their bodies and rubbed at her clit. "Perfect," Vala moaned, arching backwards to give him slightly more access, which John thought was perfect, because it meant he could suck one of her nipples into his mouth. Some gentle pressure with his teeth, and some not as gentle pressure with his fingers, and then judging from her moans, it was a race to see who would finish first. Her ass hit the steering wheel (_beep_) as she bounced harder (_beep_), and then she eked out, "John," stiffening against the wheel as her jaw dropped in an O of pleasure (_beeeeeep_). John mumbled something incoherently, not that he was really paying attention, given that his eyes were rolling back in his head as he came.

Vala fell forward, breathing into his shirt and leaving it moist and clinging to his shoulder. "Mmm. Aren't you glad we stopped?"

"Yeah," he said, too beat to mount much of a protest. Vala climbed off him and his dick bid her adieu: you were a great hostess, we'll have to do this again soon. Ever the contortionist, she sprawled herself across the front seat, her bare feet dangling out of the open window at his left, the late afternoon sunlight bronzing her bare breasts. She looked perfectly comfortable. John was losing feeling below his knees.

"And the haunted house?" he asked.

Vala smirked at him. "It was a clever diversion, John, designed to get you to pull over."

"Right, right." Far be it for him to ever figure out how her head worked. "And the reason we couldn't get out of the car?" he asked, gesturing at the sprawling green field beside them, which looked as though it'd be far more forgiving on someone's ass than sun-warmed vinyl.

"What, and let everyone see?" she asked innocently. She then used her toes to scoop her discarded top from where it had landed on the gear shift, incidentally parting her thighs and sharing all of her secrets right there.

John laughed. He couldn't not. "Put on some clothes."

"I'm pretty sure these will get us out of any speeding tickets," she said, weighing her boobs in her hands experimentally.

"There aren't any cops around," he pointed out. "Also, I'm pretty sure that's an indecent exposure charge."

"That is a very unfair accusation coming from a man not wearing pants."

"I'm wearing pants. I'm just not wearing them correctly. And besides, whose fault is that?"

Vala twisted around again, this time moving herself upright and half on him, so she could bestow a kiss on his lips. "Are you complaining?"

John wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her the rest of the way onto his lap. "Nope. Never."


End file.
